Facilier’s Redemption
by InsertExpletive
Summary: Dr. Facilier wakes to find that he has been given a second chance by Mama Odie; in order to remain as he is, he must find true love. But will he be able to when working with time constraints, and struggling with previous evil tendencies? Rating set at M for future content.
1. Chapter 1: An Unfortunate Revelation

Searing, scorching, blinding pain wracked his every nerve. Within himself, he recoiled from it. From the caustic pain of which the likes he had never previously experienced. From the wholly startling realization that he lived. This indisputable fact was made manifest by the erratic cadence of his pumping heart — by the shaky rise and fall of his chest. This pain was different and so beautifully alive.

To say that the dead felt no pain was inaccurate, and laughably so. For in that dark place just beyond the material plane of existence, he had suffered. That pain, however, differed from this completely. As his body adjusted to the now foreign sensation of life, he thought hard. This, he had always been taught, was an impossibility — the dead were just that. The reasoning, or lack thereof circled in his head, causing more pain.

He supposed that one did not cut and then make whole the threads of life without consequence. In this errant thought he found acceptance. Actions came with consequences.

Violet eyes shot open to regard the waking world once more. His vision blurry and sluggish. It took more time than he would've truly liked just to make out more distinct shapes. His eyes locked onto a hint of movement in his peripheral. Squinting, he peered at the shrouded, mysterious figure.

"Ah, good. You're finally awake."

This figure - no, woman, seemed markedly familiar, from her somewhat harsh, no-nonsense tone, to the odd hunch in the way that she stood. Still, his vision was not yet true, so he could only suspect.

"Wh-where am I?" He choked back a cough, voice hoarse from lack of use, then reached up to rub at his head.

The pain still lit his nerve endings on fire, and the force of the cough rattled his head in a decidedly uncomfortable way.

"Come now Facilier. You're in the bayou — my home."

The realization struck him like a ton of bricks.

"Mama Odie," he hissed out through clenched teeth. His vision was slowly returning to him, and now everything became clear. "You did this?"

She cocked a brow at him, swaying as she navigated blindly around the cracks in her floorboards. He counted himself fortunate that the pallet he laid across was over the more structurally sound portion of the boat.

"If you mean to ask if I saved you, yes." She replied sagely, seeming unfazed by his apparent distaste.

Various emotions assailed him at her answer. His head shook.

"Why?" The single word was all he could muster. He found that he lacked the strength to display the venom that he would have in his previous life.

"Because you have a greater purpose. A price that must be paid for what you did."

Irritation flared as his features twisted into a dark scowl.

"Don't talk to me about payment," he ground out. "You can't even fathom the pain I was put through — the pain I'm in now."

Silently, she raised a wrinkled hand, and shook her head.

"No, Charles. The pain you feel now is self-inflicted, as was what you suffered on the other side. Now, you must atone for the wrongs you did on this earth. You breathing comes with a cost as well."

He balked at the familiar use of his name, momentarily thrown before adopting a glower.

"I told you never to call me that. Charles is dead."

She appeared unimpressed with his petulant outburst, merely shaking her head.

"Charles is laying on the floor of my home. The Doctor is dead."

He winced. Was it true? Where was his shadow?

"Yes," she confirmed. "You've lost what you had. But, not permanently. I can teach you the proper way — how to pull your magic from a place of light."

She paused, blind eyes seeming to pierce through his soul, even from behind her sunglasses.

"Remember that everything has a price, Charles. Even the light."

He scowled, fatigue suffusing him completely. Though he had no desire to hear her, his limbs had other opinions. So he continue to lay prone on the mat with closed eyes, not even raising his head as she stood over him.

"You speak much of prices, old woman. Just get to the point."

She watched him silently, unnervingly so.

"You must find love within a year's time."

His eyes shot open, head canting violently to look at her with slackened jaw.

"Wh-what?" He sputtered.

"You heard me — love. True love."

"How?"

Mama Odie shrugged unhelpfully.

"That's up to you. But you'd better hurry. A year isn't very long."

This whole situation was becoming rapidly comical. Surely, she was joking. As if reading his mind, she spoke up.

"It's no trick. You may spend the remainder of the day here to get your bearings, but then you must get back to the city."

He had no choice, as unappealing as both prospects were. He nodded his acquiesce, and laid his head back down. This disturbing revelation would have to wait.

Until then, he fell into a fitful sleep.


	2. Chapter 2: To the Quarter

The journey through the bayou was not at all comparative to a leisurely walk in the park. The trek was arduous and unforgiving, with dangerous local fauna, boggy lands, and all manner of obnoxious, biting insects which swarmed through the oppressively humid air, creating a drone of tiny wing-beats and buzzing whines.

Facilier swatted the air around his face to deter a particularly relentless mosquito, glowering all the while. He hated the bayou, and everything within it. Maybe it was due to it being Mama Odie's residence; maybe it was his abhorrence of wildlife and swamps. He didn't further analyze that, instead pausing in his slog to pull his used-to-be-white shoe-covering from the muck in which it had gotten lodged. This seemed remarkably synonymous to the turn his un-life — as he had started referring to his resurrection — had taken. His scowl deepened. Here he was, out in the middle of nowhere, finding similarities between himself and his stupid shoe-covering, for gods' sake! He shook his head. How he was even going to go about this task was beyond him. Never had he truly contemplated the idea of love, except maybe passively. And that felt like several lifetimes ago, when he was younger, less jaded..

His head shook again. Getting caught in unproductive rumination would not get him out of this gods-forsaken bayou any quicker.

He knew that he had to be close to the city now, no thanks to Mama Odie's directions. She could've at least provided him with some sort of boat. He snorted derisively.

As he continued on, light began filtering through the thinning trees before him, and the ground became progressively more solid. He could hear the raucous cries of the seagulls winging around, and the still-quiet cacophony of the denizens going about their daily business.

He stopped abruptly as a thought struck him. His outfit was far too distinct — his most distinguishing feature from afar. That had to be changed, and quickly. He racked his brain, mapping the outskirts of the city within his head. There was a tailor's shop that wouldn't ask questions not too far away. That would be his first stop.

The bell chimed loudly throughout the small shop as the door opened.

"Coming!" The elderly gentleman called, stepping from the back room to greet his first customer of the morning.

What he saw brought him up short. A tall, lanky man dressed in dark hues of purple, black, and red stood before him. His attention fixed on the man's necklace of two alligator teeth strung on a thick length of cord — that was curious. Even more so was his top hat which was marked with a skull and crossbones. His eyes narrowed as he took it all in. Being a very spiritual man, seeing one with the countenance and trappings of Baron Samedi, the Loa of death, standing within his shop was both a frightening and awe-inspiring event. He had heard rumors of the Shadow Man. Everyone who hadn't been living under a rock had heard of him. But he had also heard that the voodoo practitioner had met his demise many months ago in a frog-related incident. Thoroughly confused and very wary, he straightened up, and offered the stranger a terse nod, and a strained smile.

"Good mornin', sir. What can I do for you?"

Facilier watched as the man eyed him up with total nonchalance. A faint scowl threatened to tug at a corner of his lips, bred from impatience and a desire to get on with his task. Instead, he forced an easy smile and returned the nod.

"Good morning, enchante. I'd like to peruse your various styles. I think a new wardrobe is in order."

The shop owner found himself mirroring the more genuine smile, caught up in the man's charm that he practically oozed, all previous misgivings about him temporarily forgotten.

"I think we can arrange that. Come," he gestured, leading him to the clothing racks.

By the time that Facilier had emerged from the tailor's with many bags on his arms, several bloated, fluffy white clouds had drifted over the mid-afternoon sun, blotting out much of its harsh glare. It was an unseasonably cold day, even for late November. A gust of wind stirred up the fallen leaves littered among the streets, and caused him to shiver. This served as yet another bitter reminder of just how long he had been gone from this world — the inevitable passing of time. Though Mama Odie has not specifically stated that his continued breathing was contingent upon him successfully completing the task, he knew it to be a fact. This instilled within him both a sense of urgency and desperation.

Even with such gloomy thoughts on the mind, Facilier took small comfort from his change of outfit. Though he could not hide his unusually tall stature, dressing in a cream blazer, white undershirt, and black slacks had him looking much more nondescript, even with his old necklace and shoes on. He had forgone his top hat in lieu of a black newsboy's cap, which the tailor - who he had learned was named Donald - had told him was currently en vogue, and very attractive to the fairer sex.

Facilier had his doubts, but had decided to trust the man whose business was outfitting folks.

With the bulk of his purchases weighing on both arms, he made a snappy decision, hailing a taxi to take him to his old residence — the voodoo emporium.


End file.
